Laughter is the Best Medicine
by DeniseV
Summary: Hutch is sick and cranky. Dr. Starsky comes by to see if he can help.


"What is all this?" I asked once I let myself in Hutch's apartment.

"I hobe you're habby?" My partner replied.

"Huh?" I knew what he said. I was just playing with him. Hutch hates it when I do that.

"I said I HOBE you're HABBY!" Yep, that did the trick. But saying it with emphasis didn't make it sound any less funny.

"Habby about what?" I asked all innocent-like.

"I caught your code." He said, ignoring the mocking, followed by a huge sneeze.

"My code. How can you catch my code? And what code are ya talkin' about? My area code? My zip code?" I wouldn't let this go on too much longer. He was obviously not feeling well. I didn't come here to make him suffer more. I came here to help make him feel better.

"Your CODE. You know." And then he faked a couple of coughs, followed by a couple of real ones. He was a mess.

"My cold. Oh, my cold. I don't think so, Hutch. I only had a cough. You, you're a mess. Plus, it's been over a week since I got over that. I don't think you can blame me for this." I had a really bad cough during the Lawrence case. Don't tell Hutch I said that. Anyway, that was weeks ago, so I'm thinking he might have caught this from that stewardess he took out last Sunday. But Hutch likes to blame me for a lot of stuff.

"Different people can get different symbtoms." Well, he did know everything.

"Uh, Hutch, what can I do to make ya feel better?" He'd called in sick today. And since it was Friday, I had the whole weekend to help him get better. Or at least feel better.

"Nothin'." He fell back in the pillow on the couch and pouted. Hutch was really not a good patient. You probably knew that. Most people would be able to figure that out after spending some time with him. He's got that whole Norwegian-Swedish-whatever thing going on. Doesn't want people fussing over him. He likes to suffer in private. We're real different that way. Okay, maybe I wasn't with my last cold, rather, cough, but you know Hutch was real lucky I didn't bop him one. He was really getting on my nerves. Okay, I'm getting off track here.

"Hutch, there's gotta be something I can do to make ya feel better. How about I make ya something to eat? Are ya hungry?" He probably hadn't eaten all day.

"I could eat." He said quietly. Good.

"What do ya wanna eat? I'll make whatever you want." He looked at me like I'd just killed his mother. "Okay, what do you want me to order? I don't suppose you'd like pizza?"

"Starsky, if that's all the helb you're gonna be then you should just go." He was really cranky tonight.

"No, no, just tell me what you want. Whatever you want, I'll go get it."

"Really?" He was like a kid who was gonna get that big, shiny bike in the store window.

"Really." I waited, watching him. You could see the gears moving in his head. I was beginning to feel the way it feels when we've been set-up. Nah. I don't think Hutch was up to playing any tricks.

"Um, could you go get me a salad at Melanie's Whole Earth Store. They have a salad bar there; I could tell you what to put on it. And then, could you stop at Jimmy's and bick me ub some of their all-natural tofu ice cream, vanilla?"

I squinted my eyes at him. "You know they're on opposite ends of town, not near here?"

"I understand if you don't wanna go." I chuckled. He grinned. I'm pretty sure he was reading the neon sign "SUCKER" plastered on my forehead.

"Okay. I'm gonna be gone a while because you know I ain't eatin' nothin' at either of these places. You gonna be okay while I'm gone?" He was smiling, which was part of what I wanted to accomplish tonight.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna cough and sneeze and feel crappy." I checked his refrigerator and cabinets to see what other stuff I could pick up for him.

I pulled out my notepad and pencil. "What do you want in your salad?" I sat on the edge of the coffee table. Hutch gave me the rundown of what he wanted. I was glad when he finished, because I was losing my appetite.

"Are you okay on all your cold supplies?"

"Yeah. No. Cough drops. Luden's Cherry." He smiled and then coughed again.

"All right. I'll see you later." I leaned down and tousled his hair, checking his forehead for fever while I was there. I used to hate it when my aunts and uncles did that to me. It always seemed like they were petting me. It didn't seem to bother Hutch, though. Maybe it's only when an aunt or uncle does it. Kind of like when they pinch your cheek, you know? They do it out of habit, or because it's expected. Hutch and I do it out of deep affection.

It took me a while to get everything. Hutch didn't have much in his refrigerator, so I asked the girl at Melanie's what kind of things Hutch would normally get. I mean, I knew what it was he kept in his house, but I'd never bought it before. She helped me put together a cart with stuff that he liked; she even put the salad together for me. That was nice. Then I headed to a real grocery store, because if I was spending the weekend I needed some real food, too. I got a bunch of different juices, some goodies for me, picked up some beer and then stopped at my favorite burrito joint for my dinner.

By the time I got back it was about six forty-five. Hutch was dozing, but he woke up pretty fast as I walked past him to the kitchen.

"How ya feelin'?" I asked. He was just sitting on the couch, looking a little zoned out.

He cleared his throat a couple of times before he answered. "Okay. Hungry. We got food?"

"Yeah. Where do you wanna eat? At the table or in there?" I knew I didn't have to ask, except I did because he didn't look like he was getting up.

"Table." He replied, standing and heading for the kitchen table. "I'b been laying there all day. I need a change of scenery." He sneezed just before arriving at the table.

"God bless you." He looked like he might sneeze again. And he did. And it was a huge sneeze. He looked like he was losing his balance so I quickly got to him and lowered him into a chair at the table.

"Wow, God bless you again. You okay?" He actually didn't look as bad as he had earlier. He probably just got up too fast from lying down all day.

"Yeah, I'm okay. You know how sometibes when you sneeze you feel like your brains are just going to shoot out your nose?"

"Well, no, but thanks for the visual Hutch." We both laughed, Hutch coughed, and we sat down to eat.

We ate and talked about work and how we were way overdue for a vacation. It was good to see Hutch's cold hadn't messed with his appetite. He finished his salad, along with the whole grain roll and soy butter I picked up for him. He decided he would wait on dessert.

"Are you due to take any of that conglomeration of medicine over there?" I asked. He had a bunch of stuff sitting over on the coffee table.

"No, took some while you were gone." He looked a little tired, and he hadn't moved from his chair.

"Why don't you go lie down for a while? I'll get you a cup of tea. The girl at Melanie's said you should drink clear liquids as much as possible to break up all the congestion. I got a bunch of juices for ya and some teas."

"Thanks, Starsk." He went and sat on the couch.

"You wanna watch some TV?" I asked from the kitchen as I set the teakettle on the stove.

"No." He said with no enthusiasm.

"Play a game? Cards? Chess?" I think he was just tired from sleeping all day. He seemed a little restless.

"No." I could see that I was going to work harder tonight than I had on the streets earlier today.

"Here. Chamomile tea with honey and lemon." I sat next to my partner on the couch.

"Th…" he cleared his throat, "Thanks, Starsk. You shouldn't sit so close, you'll get sick again." This was typical Hutch behavior, looking out for me when he was the one who needed the TLC.

"Look, I want to help ya feel better. Tell me what you wanna do. I know you've been cooped up here all day. What would make ya happy right now?" I was out of ideas that didn't include physical activity or leaving the house, and neither of those options would have helped Hutch get over his cold sooner or feel better while he suffered through it.

"Read to me?" Read to him. I could do that.

"You have anything in mind?" I got up and walked over to check out some of his books.

"Nothing too heavy. There's a book on quotations. Read me some of the funnier ones."

"Somethin' not too heavy, huh?" I scanned the book. This could work.

"Okay, here goes. I'm startin' with Woody Allen, even though I don't always find him funny. Here's one. 'Hey, don't knock masturbation. It's sex with someone I love.'" I chuckled. "That's pretty funny." Hutch laughed too, probably more at my reaction than from the quote.

"Not only is it funny, it's true," he laughed. This was a great idea.

"Here's another one, 'If only God would give me a sign! Like making a large deposit in my name at a Swiss bank.' You and me both, Woody." I said. Hutch continued to laugh. And cough. I think the tea and the laughter were helping to break up that gunk in his lungs. I had a little concoction planned for later that would help even more, an old family recipe from Aunt Rosie. No, it wasn't her chicken soup.

"Here's one from H.L. Mencken. This might explain our situation. 'Bachelors know more about women than married men. If they didn't, they'd be married, too.'"

"That doesn't explain my situation. Van explains my situation." Can't argue with that.

I had to find something really funny next. That Vanessa comment just brought us both down.

Hah. This one was funny. "Here's one Hutch, from Robert Benchley. 'The free-lance writer is a man who is paid per piece or per word or perhaps.'" Hutch, although he caught most of it, spit some of his tea out on that one. "Hey, watch it!" I grabbed some tissues from his cold supplies and wiped the book off where he spat on it.

"He was pretty funny, that Robert Benchley. Any more from him?" It was good to watch Hutch enjoy himself. He was looking so sick earlier in the evening. The laughter seemed to be just the right medicine tonight.

"Let's see. Here ya go. 'In America there are two classes of travel – first class and with children.' Ain't that the truth?"

"Aw, come on Starsk, you know there's nothing better than getting on a plane and having junior sit in the seat behind you and kick the seat the whole way." We laughed at that shared memory. My last visit to Ma was a nightmare of little eight-year-old Robbie either kicking the seat or screaming about his ears popping. I had a headache for two days.

"Hey, Hutch, here's one talkin' about you. 'The moment a man begins to talk about technique that's proof he is fresh out of ideas.'" I grinned a huge grin at Hutch.

"Very funny, Gordo." He coughed a huge, long, nasty-sounding cough. I knew he'd want to go get rid of that, so I headed to the kitchen to whip up my Aunt Rosie's hot toddy recipe. It was a great recipe. I used to get this when I was sick, even though it had alcohol in it. I'm sure she changed the recipe for me, but it always seemed to do the trick; the fact that it knocked me out so I would get a good night's sleep never occurred to me until I got older.

Hutch came back from the bathroom. "You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. I think that tea helped."

"Well, wait 'til you try what's next. I called my Aunt Rosie. You wouldn't want her chicken soup; it'd just make ya sicker. But she has a great recipe for a nice, soothing drink when you're sick. Should help you sleep and help break up some more of that junk in your chest." It was real hit or miss growing up in Aunt Rosie's house.

"What is it? I remember what you said about your aunt's soup. I really don't want a stomach ache too, pal."

"Nah, my Aunt Rosie's chicken soup was terrible. But her won-ton was great. She could cook, sometimes. But this isn't her recipe, it was handed down from my grandmother. It's just a hot toddy. You've had 'em before."

"Uh-huh. What's in this one?" I think Hutch didn't trust me.

"Normal stuff. Whiskey, sugar, lemon, cloves, a cinnamon stick, and boiling water. You'll like it. Trust me."

"You know I trust you. It sounds good." Hutch was quiet for a while. I looked over and saw that he was looking through the quotes book.

"Hey, Starsk, here's one for you. 'It is better to have loafed and lost than never to have loafed at all.' James Thurber. Suits you, don't ya think?"

"Just had to get back at me, huh? Well, I happen to agree with Mr. Thurber. Down time is good for the psyche." I believed that, too.

"The psyche, Dr. Starsky?"

"Well, yeah. Ya gotta keep stuff in perspective, Hutch." He looked at me and shook his head and chuckled. "I wish I was as good at that as you are." I brought the toddies in and sat next to Hutch again.

"Here. Drink up. It'll do ya good. And that keepin' stuff in perspective thing?" I shoved my shoulder up against his. "Maybe I can get a little of it to rub off on ya."

We continued reading and laughing at quotes. We drank our toddies, and when Hutch got drowsy enough, I pulled him up off the couch and walked him over to the bed. He was already in sweats, so I figured that was good enough and I tucked him in.

I was tired myself, Aunt Rosie's toddy having the desired effect on me, too. I turned to leave, but Hutch grabbed my arm. "Yeah, Blintz, you need somethin'?"

"No, just wanted to thank you. I had fun. Didn't think that could happen today. Thanks." He looked drowsy, but definitely better. And he sounded better, too. I checked his forehead before I left, and gave him another quick tousle of his blond locks. He smiled and cuddled in to his pillow. Dr. Starsky's work was done for the day.

The End


End file.
